Page 62 of Rescuing Ember

My fist connects with his jaw. Bone crunches under my knuckles, the impact jarring up my arm. The second man, stockier with a shaved head, circles, a knife glinting in the dim light.

“Just hand her over, hero. Make it easy on yourself.”

“Go to hell,” I snarl, launching myself at him.

We crash into the coffee table. Wood splinters. Pain explodes in my back. Sharp edges dig into my flesh.

His knife comes down. I roll, feeling it slice the air where my throat had been. The blade whistles past my ear, the breeze of its passage brushing against my skin.

My training kicks in. Grab the wrist. Twist. The knife clatters to the floor, echoing in the chaos.

Elbow to the face. Once. Twice.

He goes limp, blood spurting from his broken nose, warm and sticky on my skin.

Movement behind me. I spin, barely blocking a punch aimed at my kidney. It’s a third attacker, massive and tattooed.

This one’s big. Ex-military. His fist grazes my cheek. Stars explode in my vision, the taste of copper flooding my mouth.

We trade blows. Each impact jarring. The air fills with grunts and the dull thuds of flesh on flesh.

He’s good, but I’m better, and I’m fighting for more than myself.

I feint left, then drive my knee up. It connects with his solar plexus. He doubles over, gasping for air, his breath hot on my neck.

Finish it. Clasped hands come down on the back of his neck. Chop. He crumples to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Behind you!” Ember’s scream cuts through the chaos, high-pitched and terrified.

I whirl. Two assailants drag Ember toward the back door. One’s tall and lanky, the other short but muscular. Ember fights like a wildcat, her nails leaving bloody trails on the tall one’s arms.

Girl’s got grit.

I lunge, but strong arms wrap around me from behind. It’s the man with the scar—the one I thought I knocked out.

“Not so fast, tough guy.” He wheezes and tightens his hold. His breath is hot on my ear, reeking of stale cigarettes.

I struggle, watching helplessly as Ember is dragged away. Her eyes lock with mine, wide with terror. The fear in her gaze ignites something primal, buried deep within me.

My pulse roars past my ears, and suddenly, the world narrows to her, and the threat taking her away. Every instinct to protect and fight surges to the surface, obliterating reason.

The leash on my restraint snaps.

I drive my head back, feeling the crunch of his nose. Warm blood splatters the back of my neck. His grip loosens.

I spin, unleashing a flurry of blows. Each punch fueled by rage. Bones crack under my fists. He goes down for good this time, but I’m already moving.

A scream from the kitchen. Ember.

I sprint toward the sound, rounding the corner to see two men. One has Ember, his arm around her waist, a knife at her throat. The other man turns toward me, a wicked-looking blade in his hand.

Time slows. I catalog the scene in fragments. Ember’s wide, terrified eyes, green as sea glass. The glint of steel under the harsh kitchen lights. The triumphant sneer on the approaching man’s face, a gold tooth glinting.

Then, movement. Ember’s hand darts out, snatching something from the kitchen counter. There’s a deafening crack, and the man holding her crumples.

The last attacker hesitates, surprised. It’s the opening I need. I close the distance in two strides, my knife finding his heart with brutal efficiency. He lets out a wet gasp, eyes wide with shock, before sliding to the floor.

Silence falls, broken only by our ragged breathing. Ember stands there, her whole body trembling.

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